


Coffee and Poetry

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: “... and in the morning there would be coffee and poetry.”
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Coffee and Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a recent video by Sarah Rafferty describing Donna and Harvey’s perfect date :)
> 
> Many many thanks to Aditi for all the help and Ana for the poetry!

Harvey wakes up to the sound of rain splattering against the window. He pads his way to the bathroom, washes his face, brushes his teeth. 

It’s been almost eight months in Seattle, nine since Donna and him got married. He never thought he’d enjoy this, domestic life, but... he does. 

He misses the speed and thrill of New York, of their old firm. He is still a betting man, after all, and the stakes here don’t feel quite as high. But working with Mike and Rachel again and having _this_ , it’s more than he ever thought he’d want. 

He makes the bed and slips on sweater pants and makes his way to the kitchen, where Donna is sitting on a stool by the island, checking her phone. 

This is something else he loves about domesticity: seeing Donna laid-back and unguarded. It’s not just the waking up next to her, though he does enjoy that immensely; it’s the whole morning routine, practiced ease in a house that already feels like home. 

With most other women, mornings together just meant another round of sex, a quick bite and a rushed goodbye. But with Donna he enjoys the languor of rolling around in bed, sometimes not even doing anything more than touching and talking in hushed tones. Sometimes he’ll read the newspaper while she browses her phone, sometimes he’ll watch while she puts away the clothes from last night. 

He enjoys the fact that her home is his home too, that her kitchen is his kitchen, her food is his food. Even back when they were starting, instantly sharing each other’s apartment like they hadn’t been doing that for only two days, it felt like home but it didn’t feel quite as shared. It was him at her apartment or her at his apartment. This is different, it’s equally _theirs_ , and it hits him differently. 

He walks up to her. “Hey, good morning” he greets softly and gives her a kiss as she smiles up at him. 

“Morning,” she replies, voice still a little rough from sleep and last night’s activities. “Coffee’s fresh,” she points with her chin towards the coffee machine as he puts a slice of bread in the toaster. 

He busies himself with making his breakfast, already thinking about asking her what the plans are for this Saturday, as Donna snickers down at the screen. 

“What?” he asks, curious about what she’s doing. 

“Rachel,” she says as she types something, presumably a reply to her friend, “She’s obsessed with poetry and she sometimes sends me poems she likes. Since the wedding she’s taken to sending me poems that remind her of us.”

Harvey scrunches up his nose in mock disgust. He is decidedly not a poetry person, can probably count on one hand the amount of poems he’s read. Some of it can be beautiful, but it’s usually tacky and overdone. 

“Rachel keeps searching for poetry that reminds her of us?” he asks, his contempt so clear in his voice Donna shoots him a playful glare. 

“She doesn’t _search_. She just follows some poetry Instagram accounts and sometimes something comes up that she likes and she sends it to me. Some of them are quite good, actually,” she explains matter-of-factly even though she knows he’s just teasing her. 

“Like?” he leans against the counter and sips his coffee. 

“Like what?” 

“Read me one,” he smirks. 

Donna finally looks up at him, eyebrow lifted, giving him her full attention. “You want me to read you the poem Rachel just sent me?”

“Yes.” And cue the Cheshire cat grin. 

“You don’t like poetry,” she narrows her eyes. 

“Try me.”

“Okay,” she rolls her eyes at his antics and straightens up on the stool. 

“He’ll be the one,” she starts, and her voice automatically takes on a lilt he assumes comes from her theater education, “He’ll be the one you thought you’d never find. He’ll be the one that steps up in every place the last man stepped aside. He’ll be the rock that never crumbles. He’ll be the ear that can never hear enough. He’ll be your teacher, your best friend, your number one fan. He’ll be the one that climbs your walls so he can guard your heart. Most of all, he’ll be the one that changes your perspective on every man you’ve ever met.”

His heart flutters annoyingly in his chest. It’s cheesy and saccharine and he should hate it, but... he catches himself wondering if that’s true for her. If he really is all that. 

“So I’m the one, huh?” he waggles his brow at her because of course he had to ruin the mood. 

Donna laughs. “Evidently not. This “one” is supposed to be a good listener.”

“Hey, I’m a good listener!” he argues, frowning playfully. 

“Sure, on the two minutes a day when you’re not talking about yourself,” Donna smirks winningly and picks up her mug, taking a sip of her own coffee. 

“Last Wednesday I listened while you told me about the new Hamilton movie and I’m pretty sure that was at _least_ five minutes,” he argues, lawyer tone on because he knows it amuses her. 

“Shut up,” she laughs and shakes her head at him. 

“That’s still cheesy, though,” he cocks a brow as he chews on his toast. 

“It is, a bit. The other one’s better,” she says absentmindedly as she turns back to her phone. 

“Read it,” he prompts again, enjoying the tease. 

“Not if you’ll just laugh again,” she lifts a brow, though her eyes stay on her phone. 

“I promise I won’t laugh,” he smirks, knowing she knows it’s a promise he can’t keep. 

She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Fine. This one’s from F. Scott Fitzgerald. ‘They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered’.”

When she finishes reading, there’s silence. 

Harvey doesn’t like poetry. He really doesn’t. But this one...

His heart races a little and his skin tingles, covered in goosebumps. 

It’s short and simple and not even exactly a poem any more than it could be a line in a book and still, this is so _Harvey and Donna_ it really does seem like it was written about them. 

From day one they were inseparable, a bond he had never experienced with anyone else, let alone a woman. She carved a way into the very confines of his life and settled down there as if that hole had been there all along, perfectly shaped after her, just waiting for her to fill it. In no time at all she learned his mannerisms, his moods, even his secrets, stories and impressions he had never shared with anyone else, bar maybe his father. 

She became completely indispensable in a way he had never expected, and probably never would have wanted, to be honest. And his policy on feelings and dependency applied to everything and everyone but her.

He never did learn how to live well without her, not when she went to work for Louis, not after months of therapy, not after she became COO. How to survive, yes, maybe, but he is infinitely grateful they found each other in the end because a life without her would never have been good. 

And now they’re here, having breakfast together in their home, their rings on each other’s finger. They really never recovered from that intimacy and he hopes from the bottom of his heart they never do.

His eyes finally find hers, after a few minutes of silence, and she can probably see the poem affected him because she just smiles knowingly. 

“That sounds about right,” he says finally, voice a little croaky with unexpected emotion. 

“I thought so too,” Donna’s smile widens and she slides off her stool, leaving mug and phone behind as she rounds the island and wraps her arms around his middle. 

He abandons his own coffee in favor of tugging her closer, looking down at her and her adorable littleness when she’s not wearing heels, and against his better judgment he bumps their noses together. 

Donna snickers and goes up on her tiptoes and kisses him, sweetly, surely, and all the cynicism in the world couldn’t stop him from enjoying this moment with her. 


End file.
